present the picture of the past can be say, that, in our present Number, it will traced. How much stronger then must be no difficult task to discover one of the the contrast be, to those whose recollec-interesting effusions of that lady's pen. tions will carry them back, between London as it was forty years ago and as it now appears!

||

We happen to have before us at this moment the relics of the Daily Advertiser, of the date of Friday, November 6, 1747 ; a paper then printed in a large type upon a small folio page, containing perhaps not more than half the quantity of matter now given in a page of Bell's Messenger. What a contrast with the papers of the present day! Many of the advertisements, too, of those days, may be regarded as curiosities, now. Thus, in the piece of antiquity before us, we find an advertisement for a runaway apprentice, in which it is said" Whoever detains him, || shall be prosecuted according to law; and the person that brings him to his master shall have a Penny reward for his trouble." The value of this amiable youth must have been estimated very highly luckily for him, his costume was not, we presume, deemed so remarkable then as it would be deemed now; otherwise, it must have led to his immediate detection: he wore a brown wig, a red coat, and a leather pair of—what are, in the present refined age, absolutely unmentionable.

It is now, however, with London as it was forty or forty-four years ago, that we are chiefly interested. We have met with a duodecimo volume, entitled " A Journey || from Birmingham to London, by W. Hutton, F.S.A. Sco." The book, we believe, is somewhat scarce; and as, at all events, it is not likely to fall into the hands of many of the readers of LA BELLE ASSEMBLEE, we shall not hesitate to make free with some of its more amusing features.

The name of Hutton is not a word of unknown sound amongst our friends. Miss Hutton's earliest novel-" Oakwood Hall"-came first before the public in the pages of LA BELLE ASSEMBLEE. Little more than a twelvemonth ago, we had the honour of introducing Miss Hutton among our Contemporary Poets and Writers of Fiction ;* and we apprehend that we shall violate no confidence if we

■ Vide Vol. v. page 97.

Nor is her father, the author of the little volume before us, unknown to fame. His autobiography, of which we have given a brief abstract,* is justly considered as one of the best and most instructive works of its class.

Mr. Hutton, at the time that he visited London in the year 1784, was upwards of sixty years of age: he had been in the metropolis only once before, for two days, and at an interval of thirty-five years. Therefore, as he observes, every thing was new and surprising to him. He was a man of a singularly strong mind, and of extraordinary shrewdness of remark. The observations of such a man, under such circumstances, must be worth reading. My first journey to London, says he, "in 1749, was trudged from Nottingham on foot, at the expense of 38. 4d., and a few blisters; the second I was drawn by thirty-six horses." He appears to have left Birmingham at seven in the evening, and not to have reached London till two o'clock in the afternoon of the following day. Now the journey-110 miles-is performed within twelve hours.

It is a trite remark, that every thing is great or little-in some senses also dim or brilliant-by comparison. "The lamps," says Mr. Hutton, "are well disposed. Not a corner of this prodigious city is unlighted. They have every where a surprising effect; and in the straighter streets, particularly at the west end of the town, and where those streets cross each other at right angles, the sight is most beautiful. But this innumerable multitude of lamps affords only a small quantity of light, compared to the shops. By these the whole city enjoys a nocturnal illumination; the prospects are preserved, and mischief prevented. I have counted twenty-two candles in one little shop." What would our traveller say, could he behold London now amidst its dazzling blaze of gas-light, the shops of its tradesmen vying with eastern palaces in riches, splendour, and magnificence!

"There seems nothing in London," observes Mr. Hutton, so much wanted

• Ibid. page 98.

as room; no, not money, or even health; for there is money to buy, but no space to be bought. And if one in forty wants health, thirty-nine want room. They have power to penetrate down toward the centre of the earth, and up toward the heavens; a power well preserved; but|| no room can be gained on the sides." How did it happen that the plodding cit,|| forty years ago, when he could no longer find room in London, seems rarely to have thought of looking for it, where it has since been sought for, and abundantly found, out of London? Our citizens are now poetical. They love to "play with flowers," and to "babble of green fields," &c.

Mr. Hutton's character of the Bank is very accurate: " the building is odd, low, and regular, but well adapted to the design. It is an edifice which appears better to the eye delineated upon paper, than upon the ground where it stands." This description would, we think, apply with equal justness to a certain magnificent structure, not a hundred miles from St. James's Park.

The closing sentence of the succeeding passage, is not incurious:-" When the famous Jack Cade approached the city, in 1450, as he marched by London Stone, he struck it with his sword, and exclaimed, Now is Mortimer Lord of this city. The only sentence of intelligence that ever escaped him, and seems to have been uttered in an ecstacy of joy at the prospect of success. This circumstance, although forgotten by our historians, is a convincing proof, that Richard, Duke of York, was the instigator of that rebellion."

One of the greatest nuisances of London, especially in its out-skirts, in the present day, is the swarm of beggars by which it is infested. The same complaint was made by Mr. Hutton; and he had the temerity to say, that the abundance of beggars shewed a defect in the police. At Westminster Abbey, Mr. Hutton is Aye, the police of London has ever been much struck with the account of the a national disgrace. Can we wonder that opening of Edward the First's tomb, at police officers are found neglectful of their the request of the Society of Antiquaries, duty, when police magistrates so frequently in the year 1774. Upon taking off the require to be taught their's? Every pe- || slab, the stone coffin was seen immediately destrian, however, must have been struck below it. On removing the lid, a plain with a difference of system adopted by coarse linen cloth offered itself to view, the beggars of the present day-a new which being taken away, a royal mantle system adopted by a new race of beggars. || of crimson velvet was found, immediately It is hardly possible to walk half a mile covering the royal corpse. When this in any part of the skirts of the town with- was removed, the king appeared, dressed out being vociferously and almost alarm-in his own robe of gold and silver tissue, ingly assailed by sturdy fellows, hunting in couples or in leashes-fellows who, to be met with in an unfrequented spot, would make many a stout heart quake. Want of employment, and the starvation|| of themselves and their families, are their general cry. "If we punish the beggar," says Mr. Hutton," it drives him to greater crimes. Every parish or district ought to be provided with some kind of employment, which might be learnt in an hour, where every one who is able, should labour: for when a man finds he must labour for the public, he will quickly learn to work for himself." Yes, every healthy sturdy beggar ought to be compelled to labour, were it only upon the plan of Lord Castlereagh to dig holes and fill them up again. Let ministers, in their new police bill, look to this.

which was white. He was adorned with a profusion of jewels, which were very brilliant, nor had the robes undergone the least decay, but were firm to the touch. He held a sceptre in each hand, bright as the jewels. That in the right, four feet six inches long, terminated with a cross: that in the left, five feet and half an inch, with a dove. They raised up the crown, and his head appeared bare. His face and hands were perfect, and, like his robes, were solid, and without any symptom of decay. The eye-balls moved in their sockets. The whole body was neatly covered with a cere-cloth, which every where adhered to the skin, as if a part of it. The colour was that of chocolate, the upper part of the nose, between the eyes, was not prominent. Between the chin and the under lip appeared a

considerable hollow. There was no beard. He was not uncovered lower than the face. The feet felt sound, nor did there seem a disproportion in the legs, by which he could acquire the name of Longshanks.| He measured six feet two, which is three inches and a half less than the statue that formerly lay over his tomb."

much for one man to see, and as I had never read that Sir John took snuff, I did not express a desire to see it." " I made many visits to the Blue Boar's Head, and as many applications to the neighbours, but there is nothing more difficult than to find out a curiosity which depends upon others, and which nobody We have quoted this passage chiefly regards. With some trouble I procured for the sake of the subjoined remark :- a sight of the back buildings. I found "Such a sight is alone worth a journey them in that ancient state, which conto London. An eye in 1307, and an eye || vinced me that tradition, Shakspeare, and in 1774, saw the same human body, in the Goldsmith, were right; and could I have same dress, without the least alteration; gained admission into the premises of an instance without parallel." mine hostess Mrs. Quickley, I should certainly have drank a cup of sack in memory of the bulky knight."

The lovers of Shakspeare-and who are not the lovers of Shakspeare ?-will like to hear something of the Boar's Head, in Eastcheap, as it appeared between forty and fifty years since:-" I could not omit a sight of this remarkable place: but upon my approach to Eastcheap, the inhabitants were fled, the house shut up, and instead of an half-timber building, with one story projecting over the other, as I expected, the edifice was modern, with a date on the front of 1668. I immediately concluded the old house was burnt down by the great fire, that tradition and Goldsmith had misinformed me, and that farther researches were vain.-On each side the doorway is a vine branch, carved in wood, rising more than three feet from the ground, loaded with leaves and clus-taining even the slightest portion of useful

ters: and on the top of each a little Falstaff, eight inches high, in the dress of his day; such as is seen at Covent Garden, || by his faithful representative, Henderson. This induced me to prosecute my inquiry."

It is well known that the mode of obtaining access to the British Museum, formerly, was very different from what it is now. It was usual to make application some time before; and, according to priority of claim, days were named, and tickets of admission sent. This mode seemed to exclude Mr. Hutton. Fortunately, however, he met with a person possessed of a ticket for the next day, and obtained it from him at the cost of two shillings. The anxiously-desired visit proved any thing but satisfactory. He made one of a party of about ten strangers who assembled on the spot, and were hurried through the rooms without ob

information. "In about thirty minutes we finished our silent journey through this princely mansion, which would well have taken thirty days. I went out much about as wise as I went in, but with this severe reflection, that for fear of losing Mr. Hutton entered a butcher's shop, my chance, I had that morning abruptly from the master of which, with some torn myself from three gentlemen, with difficulty, he obtained the following in- whom I was engaged in an interesting formation:-that the place had been conversation, had lost my breakfast, got "sold by auction, three weeks before, at wet to the skin, spent half-a-crown in Garraway's coffee house; that the pur-coach-hire, paid two shillings for a ticket, chaser was a stranger, and had the keys; been hackneyed through the rooms with that a sight could not be obtained: that violence, had lost the little share of good if he was master of the spot, he would humour I brought in, and came away directly chop off, as useless trumpery, completely disappointed." the vine branches, that sprouted from the door; that there was nothing worth seeing within, but that he himself was possessed of a snuff-box, the painting of which represented every thing in the world. But as every thing in the world was too

Here we close, with the satisfaction of knowing that "they manage these things better at the British Museum now; and that, in every respect, London is infinitely superior at the present day, to London as it was forty years ago.

Original Poetry.